


Past Tense

by Try2CatchMe



Category: Doctor Who, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Superwho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 12:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Try2CatchMe/pseuds/Try2CatchMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This grin was brand new. It promised danger and excitement and probably epic stupidity under the guise of genius, but most of all it promised fun in the midst of it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past Tense

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on a ficlet for this post for a while: http://doomslock.tumblr.com/post/29348616065
> 
> Here is the result.

Dean swallows around his tongue, which suddenly feels dry and swollen, like he's been eating sawdust, "It's you."

The man in front of him looks exactly the same as he did fifteen years ago, he's even wearing the same stupid suit. Though his glasses are missing and he's wearing a trench coat now and seriously, what is it with the trench coats?

The un-aged man gives a slow smile, something in his eyes right on the knife edge of understanding and sorrow, "Hello, Dean."

 

\--

 

_When Dean first met the Doctor, he was sixteen years old and sitting in the science lab of the school he and Sammy would be attending for the foreseeable future, which would probably only add up to a week, maybe two. Dad was on a case in town, tracking a scatter of weird deaths and trying to make a link._

_Still, it could be worse. At least this school had the high school and junior high school on the same campus, so Dean could keep an eye on his brother._

_"Dean, are you paying attention?"_

_Dean looked up and flashed his best smile, the one that usually got him directly out of or directly into trouble, "Not really, sir."_

_That response usually got him detention or a lecture or at the very least an exasperated eye roll, but the substitute science teacher just clucked his tongue in disapproval and crossed behind the table at the front of the room. There was a bowl of water sitting innocently on the flat black surface and a small tube containing a sliver of some unidentified substance._

_"Academia is not for everyone, I know, but_ science _," Mr. Smith rolled the word on his tongue as though he savored the taste of it, "Science is important to everything. The more you know the better. You should know, for example, the effects of mixing certain substances."_

_The teacher's expression was two parts smug, one part bright-eyed childlike fervor, and three parts calculating. He raked his eyes over the entire class, pale and piercing behind rectangular black glasses, and zeroed in on Dean._

_"Substances such as oh, say," he snatched up the tube and opened it, flicking his eyes back up. He grinned, one quick flash of teeth, "Water and pure sodium." He dumped the sliver of sodium into the bowl and for a split second there was just a soft hissing sound._

_Then there was a sudden sharp_ BANG _and everyone in the class jumped as the sodium ignited explosively._

_Dean jerked too but, unlike everyone else, he made an aborted move toward the Bowie knife strapped to his leg, under his jeans._

_Judging from the look on Mr. Smith's face, it was a motion he didn't miss._

_A cold feeling settled into Dean's chest, because that was a knowing look if he ever saw one. If he got caught with the knife he was going to get suspended at best which, okay, he normally wouldn't mind, but it was his first day and Dad would_ kill _him._

_But instead of saying anything, the tall, wiry man just clapped his hands together and grinned, "So today, class, let's talk about chemical reactions!"_

 

\--

 

The man's eyes flick over Dean's shoulder and in response the hunter reaches out to lay a heavy hand on Sam's arm, which still has his gun up and aimed perfectly.

Sam shoots him a surprised look, but Dean just tightens his grip.

"It's okay."

 

\--

 

_Most days, Dean was just fine with bumming around the cafeteria with whoever it was he was hanging out with that week, but on this particular day he hadn't slept well and a headache was pounding steadily away behind his eyes. He just wanted to grab a few minutes somewhere relatively quiet and put his head down._

_That was how he found himself in the science lab. He'd thought it would be deserted, given that it was lunch time, but Mr. Smith was seated at one of the tables by the window, turning something over in his fingers._

_Dean would have just mumbled an excuse and left, but the teacher looked up and beamed, like Dean had made his day simply by existing and okay_ weird _, "Hello, Dean!"_

_The teen gestured vaguely toward the hall, "Sorry, I can-"_

_"No, no," Mr. Smith waved him in with one hand while still flipping his mystery object with the other, "Come in."_

_Dean did, because he couldn't really think of anything else to do. He tried not to wince too obviously at the light as he approached the wall of windows and clutched the only thing he'd gotten for lunch, a bottled water, a little tighter instead, "What are you doing in here?" he asked, sliding into the seat across from the substitute, "Isn't there a teacher's lounge?"_

_"Maybe I'm just avoiding the nurse," Mr. Smith drawled with a sly smile, looking over the frames of his glasses at Dean._

_The teen snorted. "Your loss, man. She's hot." He took a long draw from his water bottle, then gestured at the odd looking silver stick that twirled between the science teacher's fingers as if sentient, "What's that?"_

_"It's a screwdriver," Mr. Smith said, beaming with pride, holding it up for inspection._

_Dean looked at the 'screwdriver', which was some sort of silver metal, about five inches long with a blue light at the top, and rolled his eyes, "Yeah, right."_

_"It is, it's a screwdriver."_

_"Dude, I'm sixteen, I'm not an idiot."_

_"I never said you were," the teacher seemed honestly put out at the insinuation._

_Dean sighed, but before he could say anything else he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye._

_The science lab had a view of the courtyard, where the Junior High was apparently having lunch that day. As always, Dean eyes automatically sought out his brother. He had to choke down some very strong rage at what he saw._

_He was halfway out of his seat when a hand landed heavy on his arm, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's going on, Dean?"_

_The teen just gestured impotently at the window where, by the parking lot, Sam was surrounded by three older kids, "I'm gonna rip their lungs out!"_

_"I have a better idea," Mr. Smith waved the 'screwdriver' at Dean, smirking, before pointing it out the window. He thumbed a switch and a noise somewhere between a hum, a whine, and a buzz filled the room as the top of the device lit up blue._

_Outside, at least a dozen car alarms went off, drawing the attention of every single person in the yard toward the parking lot. The would-be bullies immediately scattered and Dean just gaped at his teacher._

_"_ That _'s a screwdriver?" He asked, not at all bothering to mask his disbelief._

_He received a Devil-may-care grin in return, "Science, Dean. Only beautiful science could produce a sonic screwdriver." He flipped the device again and Dean was hard pressed not to match his grin._

_\--_

"Dean, you know this guy?"

"... Yeah."

 

\--

 

_It became a thing, somehow. Dean started to go to the science lab during lunch and his off period. Mr. Smith seemed utterly thrilled to have his company, which was weird because the guy could literally hang out with anyone he wanted and it wasn't like Dean was anything special._

_This lasted almost a week until a Senior made a passing remark about Dean 'getting friendly' with the substitute and Dean had to punch him in the mouth, just on principle. He didn't go to the science lab that day and when he had class he could almost swear Mr. Smith looked_ hurt _and-_ dammit _!_

_On Monday, Dean bailed out of History class, which was right before his lunch period, and made the short walk to a nearby diner to buy lunch for himself and a truly ungodly amount of french fries. He swore to himself that it was in no way a peace offering and that he was only doing it because fries were the only thing he'd ever seen Mr. Smith eat- though he called them 'chips', the British weirdo._

_Normally, he couldn't care less what people thought of him, but this guy was the first person in a long time who had treated Dean like he had more than just a couple of brain cells to rub together. Dean had long ago resigned himself to the fact that Sam was going to be the smart brother, so sue him, he didn't want to lose the novelty of hanging out with someone who might think differently._

_And of course, that entire thought process made him wonder why he thought_ french fries _could possibly solve all his problems, but before he could reconsider he saw, as he was passing the football field, Mr. Smith look around really suspiciously and duck inside the shed behind the practice field, right by the woods. And seriously, who built a school right next to the woods? If anyone had any idea what could possibly be_ in _those woods, they would run away screaming, Dean could guarantee it._

_Still, he was curious now, so he crossed the grass and made it to the shed just as Mr. Smith was stepping out again._

_The substitute teacher looked like a deer in the headlights for a split second before flashing his usual grin, "Oh, hello Dean!" and closing the door firmly behind him._

_"Hey," Dean shifted on his feet to look over his teacher's shoulder and into one of the dirty windows, but couldn't make out anything but a flash of blue, "What are you doing out here?"_

_"Well, uh..." The teacher dragged out the syllable, looking comical with his jaw hanging open (possibly on purpose), before answering, "Science project."_

_Dean felt one of his eyebrows start on an incredulous upward climb, "Science project?"_

_"Yup," Mr. Smith ended the word with a pop before grinning like he was just the personification of innocence and altruism._

_Which, whatever. Dean didn't intend to harass the guy. Sure, he was acting suspicious as hell, which was weird but the guy himself was kind of weird in that kooky genius way that made everyone think you were completely mental until you turned around and won a Nobel Prize or something._

_Besides, it couldn't be anything dangerous. Dean liked to think he'd gotten a sixth sense for these things over the years and he wasn't getting any danger vibes from this guy._

_"Whatever," he shrugged, lifting the plastic sack he was still holding to eye level, "I brought fries."_

_The teacher outright beamed at that. Honestly, he was way too easy to please._

 

\--

 

"Well who _is_ he??"

And isn't that a loaded question?

 

\--

 

_Dean was so, so screwed._

_It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. He'd figured out the connection between the victims, mainly in that there_ wasn't _a connection. They weren't part of the same social circles, weren't the same age, had no physical similarities, the only thing they had in common was that they'd been in the same class in the high school Dean currently attended, but even that was a stretch, it was a big school and the graduating class had been over a thousand._

_It couldn't be a ghost, no weird deaths or disappearances that year, no reason for a vengeful spirit of any kind. It could have been a creature, given the gruesome nature of the deaths, but only one of the deaths had been outdoors and that was in a backyard with a fence that was completely intact._

_The only thing Dean could think of was a cursed object. Once he knew what he was looking for, he started to do his own research._

_The first victims, a husband and wife, had attended an estate sale the weekend before their deaths._

_Six months after that, a single man had been killed in his apartment shortly after moving in while his roommate was out. It stood to reason that, having just moved into an apartment and having needed a roommate, he wasn't exactly rolling in money for furnishings. Dean was a master at getting things cheap, he knew garage sales were where it was at._

_Apparently, the second victim's roommate had pilfered some of this things to sell sometime between the death and the family coming to collect belongings. He was found dead in the backyard of his parents' home last week._

_Dean's train of thought screeched to a halt there. The cursed object was probably still at the parents' house._

_He quickly discovered the reason there hadn't been two more deaths was that the parents were overseas and had had difficulties arranging for passage home so early. They were supposed to get in that night._

_There was no time to grab Dad, he was on the other side of town and he'd make Dean explain his reasoning before he even budged, they didn't have that kind of time._

_Dean stuffed his keys in his pocket, calling over his shoulder for Sammy to lock the door and lay a salt line before he hurried out of the crappy apartment they were staying in, double-timing it to the parking lot._

_By the time he got to the address listed, there were two rapidly cooling bodies in the kitchen of the house._

_The parents' hadn't even had time to disable the alarm, if the timely arrival of the police was anything to go by. Dean had barely lifted his gaze from the bodies to check for the object before he was being held at gunpoint and told to put his hands behind his head._

_They'd searched him and found his knife and yeah, he was completely screwed._

_He was sitting in the back of the police cruiser, beating his head against the seat behind him, when he happened to glance outside at the hugely busy crime scene. His jaw dropped when he saw Mr. Smith saunter up to the police like he had all the authority in the world and_ flash a badge _._

_They exchanged low words for a few moments before the officer in charge gestured toward Dean. When teacher and student locked eyes, Mr. Smith actually winced. He motioned the officers closer and whispered something to them that Dean really wished he could hear because whatever it was made their eyes bug out of their heads._

_Three minutes later, Dean was out of the cruiser and his handcuffs. He fought the urge to rub at his wrists and instead gave his arresting officer, who was trying desperately not to make eye contact, his most charming smile._

_Mr. Smith (and, yeah, he'd introduced himself as John Smith on the first day of class and Dean was mentally kicking himself for not picking up on the_ most obvious alias ever _) sliding into the passenger seat of the Impala was more than a little surreal, but he hadn't brought his own car and Dean was inclined to ignore it if it would get him some answers._

_"You're not a real teacher, are you?" he asked, only half rhetorical, as he pulled away from the curb._

_He received in turn a look that held so much understanding, such knowledge, such utter interest, like in spite of everything Dean was the most fascinating thing in the world, and the feeling that they were somehow sharing a secret joke._

_"And you're not an ordinary teenage boy."_

\--

 

"This is the Doctor, Sam."

"Oh!"  The Doctor looks utterly delighted, checking Sam over with new eyes, "You've certainly eaten your vegetables since I last saw you."

 

\--

 

_They wound up back at the apartment, because it wasn't like Dean knew anywhere else to go, and he was certain that the Doctor (he'd ditched the first alias and was going by this one instead, though he swore up and down that it was actually his name) wouldn't abuse the knowledge. He'd just busted Dean out of police custody at a murder scene with a grin and a few words, Dean wasn't about to look the gift horse in the mouth._

_As soon as they entered, Sammy freaking_ materialized _from where he'd been holed up in the bedroom, "Who're you?"_

_The Doctor blinked when he caught sight of Sam, then grinned wide, "Oh, hello! I'm the Doctor."_

_"Doctor who?"_

_"Just the Doctor."_

_"He's my science teacher, Sammy," Dean said before the conversation could go any farther. He debated, for a moment, telling Sam what they were up to, then decided against it. Sam had been more and more resilient to getting involved in anything even remotely related to hunting lately. Besides, even though Dean trusted the Doctor, he wasn't about to trust him with Sam, "We're working on a project."_

_Sam's eyes flicked over to the clock on the stove, which clearly read that it was nearly midnight, and then back to Dean. It was obvious Dean hadn't fooled him, but he just sighed and turned back to the bedroom, "Whatever."_

_"Well," the Doctor mused, watching Sam disappear into the hall, "He's a ray of sunshine, innit he?"_

_Dean just shrugged. Hopefully, it was something his brother would grow out of. He doubted it, Sammy was stubborn like that, but hey, it could happen._

_"So," he said instead, dropping into a chair and running a hand over his eyes, really wishing he had a beer right about now, "You wanna fill me in?"_

_The Doctor took a chair of his own, "On what, exactly?"_

_"Oh, I dunno, how about we start with how you aren't a real teacher? Or, hey, how you got those cops to let me go back there?"_

_At that, the Doctor smirked and took out the badge he flashed, "Well, the second question is a little easier, so why don't we start there?" He flipped it open and..._

_Dean glared with animosity at the picture of Mickey Mouse prominently displayed, "You're just screwing with me now."_

_"Not at all!"_

_Looking up, the hunter saw the Doctor's eyes utterly sincere, then glanced back at the paper- and nearly jumped out of his chair._

_It was an FBI badge now. And it looked like the real deal, it was definitely better than any forgery Dean had ever seen._

_Before his eyes it changed. CIA, Homeland Security, Interpol, Scotland Yard... He blinked, shook his head, and looked again. It just kept changing._

_"How- what-"_

_"Psychic paper," The Doctor explained, flipping the badge closed and tucking it away again, "It shows you what I want you to see."_

_"I gotta get me some of that..."_

_Laughing, the Doctor folded his fingers together and leaned forward, "Your turn, Dean. Why were you out at that house tonight?"_

_For a few moments, Dean struggled with what exactly to tell the Doctor. Clearly he knew something about the supernatural (psychic paper kind of gave off that impression and he hadn't batted an eye at the salt line), but how much?_

_As it turned out, he didn't have to answer, because the Doctor looked down at the table and scanned the map, newspaper clippings, and Dean's haphazard notes. Then his eyes widened and the same grin he pulled out when he made something explode in class erupted across his face._

_"Brilliant!" He near-shouted, shuffling through the papers at such speed that Dean started to wonder how he could actually read it all, "You figured out the pattern! Oh!" he snatched up the piece of paper with all of Dean's theories on it, "An object? Yes, yes that makes sense! Well done, Dean!"_

_The Doctor was beaming at him, causing Dean's neck and face to start feeling hot, so he coughed and tried to change the subject, "Yeah, well, the object is probably still at the house. The police wouldn't have taken it as evidence unless it was right by the bodies or something, right?"_

_"Yes," the Doctor looked contemplative now, eyes glazing over as he thought, "Yes, yes we'll have to go tonight and recover it before it can be moved."_

_"Uh, how are you planning to do that, exactly? I mean, you can flash psychic paper, but no matter what it says I seriously doubt they're going to let you take a teenager into a crime scene with you."_

_"Oh, no one has to know." And this grin was brand new. It promised danger and excitement and probably epic stupidity under the guise of genius, but most of all it promised_ fun _in the midst of it._

 _And Dean didn't have a clue who this guy was and if his dad could see him now, he'd be getting an earful about never trusting anyone like this, but Dean_ wanted _this, he wanted to trust this weirdly tall man with crazy hair, a screwdriver that wasn't a screwdriver, and maybe just a bit of mental instability thrown in with his genius._

_So he got up and knocked on the bedroom door, "Sammy, we're going out, lock up after us._

_Opening the door, Sam gave him a look that was mostly dubious, but held a definite measure of worry. Dean hated that, hated that his kid brother had to worry that every time he left in the middle of the night, there was a definite chance he wouldn't be coming back._

_"This late?" And that was Sam's way of asking if it had to do with hunting, his way of asking about it without acknowledging it at all._

_"Not to worry!" The Doctor chirped, appearing behind Dean to drop a hand on his shoulder and a wink in Sammy's direction, "I'll keep him out of trouble."_

_The thing about the Doctor was he was all sincerity, like a knife of honesty cutting through a life that was no less than eighty-percent lies._

_Sam could see it just as much as Dean, see that this grown-up wasn't lying or just trying to placate him. He relaxed, probably not even knowing why, and gave a small smile in response to the Doctor's and Dean's own. It was a slight shock to the older brother how little they'd both been smiling lately._

_"Be careful." Was all he said, but he didn't look scared anymore and Dean held onto that as he followed the Doctor out into the night._

_\--_

"Okay," Sam says, clearly trying to process a vague memory with the man in front of him, who matches it exactly, "So you know each other. That doesn't explain _that_." He points at something across the room.

Dean follows his gaze and can't help the rush of emotion or the slightly bitter grin.

"I'm not sure there's a lot that _can_ explain that."

 

\--

 

 _"I gotta tell you, man." Dean said, following the Doctor across the football field, "Saying the secret to getting us into a crime scene without anyone knowing is in the shed behind the bleachers is_ really _not helping your credibility."_

_The Doctor laughed, pulling out his screwdriver and using it to unlock the shed. At this point, Dean had pretty much stopped being surprised by what the Doctor could do. Pulling the door open, he gestured the hunter inside with a flourish. After giving him a long look, Dean stepped inside._

_There wasn't a whole lot in the shed. Unused equipment, a folded up table, a ball cart, and a giant blue box._

_The fact that the giant blue box was glowing was what attracted Dean's attention._

_"Police Public Call Box?" he read aloud, giving the Doctor a skeptical eyebrow, "I don't see how this is going to help us at all."_

_The Doctor was grinning again, like a magician showing off a new trick. He hurried over to the box and pulled out-_

_"A key? Seriously?" And it said something about this night that_ that _was what Dean found the most unbelievable._

_The Doctor got the door open then. A bright beam of yellow light illuminated the darkened shed and nearly made him close his eyes._

_There was something enticing about the box, something... warm. The Doctor didn't have to gesture this time, Dean just walked in._

_The first thing he noticed was the change in the air, the second was the absolute_ size _of the room he was now standing in._

_All he could say was, "It's bigger on the inside."_

_"Yes it is!" the Doctor bounded toward- was that a console? Oh Sammy, would_ love _this. The Doctor spun, arms spread out as if to embrace the entire room. "Say hello to the TARDIS!"_

_"What is it?"_

_"_ She _," the Doctor corrected firmly, "Is my ship."_

_"Ship?" Dean gave a slight laugh, "Like spaceship?"_

_The look the Doctor gave him was a definite affirmative and Dean felt his body go cold. For the first time, he realized how deep he was. Which was stupid because he was neck-deep and an_ idiot _for trusting so easily. This guy wasn't his science teacher and a week and a half of lunches mostly consisting of French fries did not a trust build._

 _"So, what, you're an alien?" he asked with an unconvincing laugh, feeling the door press against his back. He didn't believe in aliens. He_ did _believe in magic and crazy people, though. Magic could bend the dimensions to create this room, probably. It could also explain the psychic paper thing. A witch would make sense. The Doctor had been able to cross the salt line after all, and Dean had a silver ring that the Doctor had never reacted to, so he was probably human._

_"Dean." The Doctor came over, steps hurried, but not aggressive. "You don't believe me, that's fine. Most people don't straight away. Especially hunters."_

_Dean swallowed, "Sounds like you don't get along with hunters."_

_"I'm not a fan of guns." The Doctor shrugged."They usually try to shoot me. But I'm not a monster Dean. Being not human doesn't make me a monster. Besides, Time Lords came first."_

_"Time Lords." Dean parroted, hearing a rushing in his ears like adrenaline with no outlet. He only had a knife, for crying out loud. He didn't think he'd need his gun for a cursed object and he didn't want to get caught with it in case they_ did _run in to cops and oh was he regretting it now. Nice or not, this guy was clearly insane. He'd heard somewhere the smarter you were, the crazier you were, and that made a lot of sense here. Still, the crazy made the fact that he'd thought Dean was smart make sense._

_The Doctor gave a smile, a new one, like an apology and pity and worry all together, "I can prove it, if you like?"_

_"Yeah, sure." The longer Dean could stall, the better. The Doctor reached into his trench coat, causing Dean to tense, but withdrew only- "A stethoscope?"_

_With yet another grin, the Doctor popped the ends into Dean's ears without preamble and pressed the end into his hand. For once in the history of the universe, it was warm. Without letting go of Dean's wrist, the Doctor guided the little metal disc to the side of his chest where-_

_Dean could hear the flutter of a heartbeat clearly. But that wasn't where the heart was-_

_The Doctor moved the disc to the opposite side of his chest and there-_

_Dean jerked back and yanked the stethoscope out of his ears, "No way. No way in hell do you have two hearts." A few deep breaths and a self-deprecating smile from the Doctor told him he was wrong, "What the hell are you?"_

_"I told you, I'm a Time Lord. And this," the Doctor ran a hand lovingly along the railing beside them, "Is the TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimensions In Space."_

_"Time?" Dean repeating, feeling the blood rushing in his ears build up to a crescendo._

_"Oh yes. Time Lord isn't just a name. But!" The Doctor leapt away, laying hands on the console with a quickened familiarity that made him grabbing a nearby mallet even more worrying, "It's the Space we're dealing with tonight, isn't it?"_

 

\--

 

"That's the TARDIS, Sam. She's pretty awesome."

"She?"

 

\--

 

_The Doctor was a maniac._

_Whether or not he was telling the truth (which Dean still wasn't sure about) this was irrefutable._

_Dean was clinging to the railing of the TARDIS for dear life while the Doctor ran around the console like a madman, whooping and hollering and using the mallet liberally. For someone who claimed to love his ship so much, there was way too much mallet use in his life. Dean actually felt sorry for the TARDIS and not just because the railing he'd wrapped himself around was warm in a way that made him worry she was sentient._

_Also, there was no way that humming, wheezing noise could be a good thing._

_The entire room shook and Dean abruptly found himself sprawled along the floor just as the TARDIS lurched and finally stilled._

_"A-ha!" the Doctor shouted, triumphant, "Here we are!"_

_"I think I just developed a fear of flying," Dean groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. The TARDIS hummed, as if sympathizing with him._

_"Oh come on, where's your sense of adventure?"_

_"Probably wherever I left my sense of self-preservation."_

_"That's the spirit!_ Allons-y! _" The Doctor launched himself out the door like there was a carnival outside instead of a murderous object of unknown form._

_"I think he's actually worse than I am." Dean said aloud. The TARDIS hummed again and he couldn't help a grin._

_"Alright," the Doctor was looking around when Dean let himself out of the TARDIS, somehow unsurprised to find himself in the very home in which he'd been arrested a few hours before. "Have we got any idea what this object is?"_

_"Not a clue." Dean said honestly. "Just that it likes dropping bodies. If we had more time, I'd say we could get our hands on the crime scene photos for the other murders and compare them, but we don't. Unless the TARDIS actually can take us back in time."_

_"Of course she can!" the Doctor sounded honestly offended, "We shouldn't here, though, too much chance of crossing our own time streams."_

_"And what would that do?"_

_"You fancy the universe as it is?"_

_"More or less."_

_"Then we'd best not." The Doctor pressed forward into the hallway, pulling out his screwdriver and lighting it up, pointing it in turn at different doors and archways into other rooms._

_Dean was considering taking out his EMF meter, but wasn't at all sure if he'd get accurate readings with the screwdriver on and the TARDIS in the other room, when the Doctor put out an arm to stop him. The buzzing noise the screwdriver made had changed pitch slightly, which apparently meant something._

_Keeping his voice low and not taking his eyes off the door, the Doctor whispered, "There you are..."_

 

\--

 

"Time And Relative Dimensions In Space, are you serious??"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

 

\--

 

_It was a clock._

_A freaking clock, less than a foot tall, made out of some kind of dark wood Dean couldn't identify at first glance, with stupidly ornate hands even though the clock itself looked worn and old, clearly antique._

_It was also clearly evil, going by the way it was currently possessing a cop to menace Dean and the Doctor with a gun._

_The self-same cop that had cuffed Dean earlier, to be precise._

_At some point, if they survived the night, Dean was going to do some hardcore research on cursed objects and find out just what their level of sentience was. Because he was starting to think this one knew it was being threatened._

_The Doctor was obviously not too worried about the gun, which reinforced Dean's idea that he was probably mad._

_"James, isn't it?" He asked, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, totally nonthreatening. "You were much less murderous when we met earlier."_

_James's eyes were deader than that of most of the corpses Dean had seen and made a chill go up his spine. The cop said nothing._

_"James?" The Doctor called, eyes intense, voice firm, "Are you in there?"_

_One of the things Dean always hated about hunting was when things that looked human did things that were decidedly not._

_Like the way James wasn't blinking, had his mouth wide open, and was twisting his head around in a way that Dean was pretty sure necks weren't designed to support._

_"I'd let him go, if I were you." The Doctor's voice was casual with a hint of threat and his expression was steel. Dean had never thought the Doctor_ could _be threatening, but his instincts were starting to whisper at him that maybe that wasn't true._

_James twisted his head some more and swung his pistol in Dean's direction._

_"I wouldn't do that." The Doctor's voice was not casual by any stretch of the imagination now, and his face... his brows were drawn down, mouth a hard line. This wasn't the fun-loving guy Dean had met, this was something older and infinitely more dangerous._

_The thing possessing the cop made some sort of horrible noise between a hiss and a screech, turning the gun back toward the Doctor, body language screaming that it was going to fire._

_In a heartbeat, Dean's knife was imbedded in the face of the clock._

_There was a second of perfect stillness and silence. Then another. The James gripped his head with his free hand and looked around, manic and confused, "I- what-"_

_Stepping forward, the Doctor placated in an easy tone, "Now don't worry there's a perfect explanation for all of this." He plucked the gun out of the officer's hand, handing it over to Dean like a dead rat. Then he pressed a hand against James's forehead and the cop's eyes rolled up into his head and he sagged, the Doctor lowering him gently to the ground._

_"There now," the Doctor seemed pleased. "That's much better. He won't remember any of this in the morning."_

_"You can do that?" Because that was, frankly, a terrifying prospect._

_"I don't enjoy it, but having a force like that inside your mind is a bit too much to handle even the memory of," the Doctor wandered over to the clock, bending at the waist to get a good look at where it perched, "Now look at you. An inanimate object that houses enough psychic energy to attain sentience and project a low-level telepathic field. Fascinating."_

_"That thing still kicking?"_

_"In a manner of speaking," but the Doctor plucked it up anyway, "You interrupted its control by stabbing it, but it can't be destroyed that easily."_

_"Then what's to stop it from trying to take control of us??"_

_The Doctor 'tsk'ed, "Oh, it can't control me, that would be like a water bottle trying to harness the ocean. The TARDIS is protecting you. She seems to like you."_

_That wasn't creepy. Nope._

_Sighing, the Doctor tossed the clock into the air and caught it, "Shame it can't be reasoned with. I suppose I'll have to lock it up somewhere."_

_"Hunters use curse boxes," Dean suggested._

_The Doctor hummed, "I'll have to take a look at one of those."_

 

\--

 

"Wait, wait, wait." Sam rounds on Dean, "You knew aliens were real and never said anything?? What about Crawford Hall or that thing with the fairies?!"

"I didn't think those were aliens, Sam. I'm pretty sure aliens don't run around in flying saucers, do they?"

"Depends on the species and their mood."

"That's not the point!" Sam waves his gigantic arms around. "Why didn't you _say_ anything?"

 

\--

 

_The second time Dean stepped out of the TARDIS, he was back in the shed. His brain was still trying to chew through all the information the night had provided, everything had a surreal air to it. Besides, the trip back had been even rougher than the trip in._

_The Doctor leaned against TARDIS, with a grin that was just a bit smug._

_Dean tried to school his expression into something other than stunned and wasn't sure he quite managed, "So what now?"_

_"I go find a place to stash the clock." The Doctor shrugged, "I'll probably consult a few planets to try and find the best solution."_

_A few_ planets _, God, Dean had never felt so small._

 _"You're taking off, then?" he tried to sound nonchalant, but dammit, crazy or not, he_ liked _the Doctor and, for all intents and purposes, the Doctor seemed to like him. No accounting for taste, but Dean hadn't had the undivided attention of anyone for years now and it was strangely addicting._

 _He knew it was pathetic, but right now he didn't particularly_ care _either._

_"Well..." the Doctor looked like he was gathering the courage to say something, "You could always... come with me?"_

_It seemed like staring was the only thing Dean was going to be capable of for a few seconds because the Doctor, this crazy, brilliant alien with the entirety of time and space at his disposal, wanted him to come along for the ride._

_"I," He_ wanted _to, he wanted to hop in the TARDIS and learn to deal with flying and see other planets and aliens and spend time with someone who thought he was_ worth _something, but at the same time- "I can't."_

_The Doctor looked disappointed, but not like he blamed Dean for it. Even so, Dean scrambled to explain._

_"It's Sammy. I can't leave him behind."_

_"I can get you back five minutes from now," the Doctor offered and Dean was so,_ so _tempted, but..._

_"I'd age though, wouldn't I?" At the Doctor's nod, Dean felt the last of his hope slip away, "Sam would know. He'd never forgive me for leaving him and he's not old enough to come along."_

_The Doctor didn't look hurt at that either. He gave a little, proud smile, and walked over, offering his hand. After a beat, Dean took it and was surprised when, instead of shaking his hand, the Doctor yanked him into a hug instead, like he knew he'd have to surprise Dean with it._

_"You're brilliant, Dean. Absolutely brilliant. Be sure to remember that."_

_He was wrong, but Dean wasn't going to say so._

\--

 

The room is silent for a long time. So long Dean starts to wish they hadn't already wasted the ghost and it would come wailing out of the woodwork and give him something to shoot just to break the tension.

Sam's looking at him, watery eyes and guilt and oh God, if he doesn't do something fast they're going to have a _moment_.

Fortunately, the Doctor's got his back.

"My offer still stands, you know."

It takes Dean a second to work out what he's saying and when he does, his train of thought screeches to a halt and he whips his head around to gape at the alien.

"Wha- I mean- really?"

The Doctor gives him that smile again, the little proud one. "Absolutely. And Sam is, of course, more than welcome."

"Dean." The look Sam turns on him is pleading and he understands. The crushing weight of the world ending again and again is getting to them more than ever before and now there's a chance to hit the pause button and just step to the side for a while. A chance to run around the cosmos with someone who hasn't yet forgotten how to laugh and see the beauty in the things he protects. To see things other humans could never dream of in places where the pain and sorrow isn't their fault to begin with.

He wants it. He always has. And as much of a masochist as people claim he is, he can't deny himself this twice.

"Well, we just finished up here, so I think we're free for a bit."

Sam lights up like he hasn't since they were both teenagers and Dean brought home a box of fireworks for the fourth of July. The Doctor rocks back and forth on his feet, hands shoved deep in his pockets, beaming.

"Excellent!" He snaps his fingers and the TARDIS doors open.

It's all Dean can do not to run inside.

All he has with him is a shotgun, a silver knife, and a pistol, all of which he's fairly sure the Doctor will, at some point, confiscate. He can't bring the Impala along, but he knows she won't be alone too long.

He steps into the TARDIS and feels a tingling warmth sweep over his skin, the hum of the ship crawling up through his boots and into his bones in a way that is nothing short of welcoming. Sam is wide-eyed, trying to look everywhere at once and if he's not careful he'll trip over something with his giant Sasquatch legs.

The Doctor closes the door and bounds past them, spinning to a halt in front of the console to give them one of the grins that made Dean want to go with him so badly the first time he asked.

"So, all of time and space at your disposal... where do you want to start?"


End file.
